Snuff Machine (a fragment)
SNUFF MACHINE (a fragment)
...the mid-to-late 20th Century saw the rise of 'coroner buffets' (so called because they provided a coroner with as many corpses as he could possibly stomach and then some), illicit nightclubs where patrons could gather to watch the termination of one life after another. Coroner buffets came in two kinds: the willing and the unwilling. The latter were considered more darkly glamorous because of the authentic victim-status of the "performer", but inevitably no unwilling coroner buffet stayed open for very long. When a service is dependent on a steady stream of people who don't want to provide it, sooner or later one will escape and the law will come crashing down. The willing coroner buffets, aside from being praised by their patrons for the moral superiority of using only enthusiastic victims, tended to last much longer - some ran for over a decade, and with no records kept and no official burial of the bodies we can never be sure how many thousands might have died. We do know that the more relaxed possibilities presented through the use of willing victims meant that executioners could in turn employ much greater artistry in their work, exemplified by the rising taste for "snuff machines". There's no clear record of how many snuff machines were in existence - only three survive, and we have recorded descriptions of at least five other distinct units - but for several years they rivalled manual murder in popularity amongst patrons of death
This 1978 account of the Sarcophagus, star attraction of The Pantheon Bar in Pxxxxxx, NWUK, was provided by Ednear Limbra for the underground magazine Carcassim. Limbra takes rather generous poetic license in describing the victim's inner life, but it's known that there was a machine known as the Sarcophagus in action during this period and that a grey dragon was amongst the contemporary disappearances thought to be at the Bar's hands
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All the house lights were off, leaving only the spotlight on the Sarcophagus stood in front of heavy red velvet drapes. It was never removed from the stage, at least certainly not this season when it was the star attraction. It was too large and cumbersome to remove and so it remained stood at the centre, even during the dinner and dancing where it served as a reminder of the performances, past and future, that had brought this audience
To the cheers of that audience and the sound of a drumroll, the greyscaled dragon was walked onstage in his short yellow rainjacket, cute white wellies with black polka dots and nothing covering his nether regions. His wings were folded and his ears lowered in humility. His hands were cuffed in front of him, mainly for show, and he couldn't help blushing bashfully at how the jacket did nothing to cover his bobbing erection
Leading him up to the machine where the two effeminate swans who served as its operators. To see the two slender birds in their tight leather you would never have suspected their talents at physical and psychological torture, which made them all the more appealing as the owners and operators of the Sarcophagus. All the pleasant tea and scones and chit-chat before the show and the dragon still had no idea if they'd commissioned it or built it themselves or found it in a crashed spaceship
Unlike the classic notion of a sarcophagus, in this instance the front of the machine was clear glass. The back wall was smooth metal in burnished copper, contrasting the red velvet outside the machine, with a wide vertical slit at waist height. The dragon blushed harder as he looked at it, being well aware of what its purpose was
The audience was murmuring excitedly as the dragon allowed himself to be guided into place in the Sarcophagus, tail hitched up out of the way of the slit. There was no introduction for the audience, no name given for him, not even a cutely humiliating intro to make him feel more ashamed and aroused. It saddened him a little, having looked forward to being introduced to the ravenous viewers by his pet name of Tiny, though he supposed he didn't need the nickname when they could all see the goods so clearly. But no, the swans said nothing nor even looked out at their audience, working as if they were completely alone with the dragon. He shuffled his feet obediently as they guided them into place, locking clamps over them to keep his legs spread wide and prevent him from stepping out of place. One of the swans teased and played with his erection for a moment, grinning at his lover before fitting a stainless steel cockring around the dragon's cock and balls. A cable was threaded from the ring to a steel loop in the floor, and from there through a second small hole in the back wall of the sarcophagus. At the same time the second swan kissed the dragon's cheek, fitting another length of cable around the dragon's neck. It ended in another metal loop, and the free end was threaded through, leaving the steel hoop resting lightly at the back of the dragon's neck as the cable disappeared through the third and final hole in the back wall. Done, each swan took a turn at kissing and fondling the dragon for a moment before stepping back and uncuffing him. All three of them understood there wasn't much he could do with his hands now anyway, and it would make for a much better performance. The dragon grinned shyly and nonchalantly stuck his hands in his jacket pockets as if he were simply waiting for the bus. The swans nodded and closed the glass door
Inside the glass, all the dragon could hear was the distorted resonance of the audience's excitement. He knew there was a microphone built into the metal frame above his head, but he resisted the temptation to speak into it. Instead he continued to play up to the pretence that it was perfectly reasonable for him to be stood around waiting with no pants on. At least until he felt the thick metal pole being pushed up under his tail, forcing him to grunt and whimper as he was penetrated
The dildo had to be calibrated for the height of whoever was stood in the Sarcophagus before it could be inserted of course, but the dragon had been told it was also kept out of sight of the audience so as to not know how large it was, so that the male viewers could more easily imagine being the force buggering whoever was inside. In other times the dragon might have argued about the sexism of this focus on the male's enjoyment, but right now all he could focus on was that the object was very big indeed, and was going deep inside him as he gritted his teeth and tried not to resist its entrance. He knew instinct was going to make him try to fight back eventually, however futile it was, and he knew how utterly undignified he'd look when he did it, but for now he wanted to show how acquiescent and submissive he was. A good, humble slave in position
Behind him he heard the beginnings of a mechanical whirring, and the metal dildo began pulling back out of him slowly. His whole body shivered with the sensation as it edged back, then back in again just before it seemed like it might leave completely. Outside he could hear the whoop of the audience as they realised the machine was active. His own modest cock was still as rock hard as before despite the pressure in his insides, and he wished he was still handcuffed to make it easier to keep his own hands away from it, to let the machine do its work instead
As he was being buggered by the machinery, he was beginning to feel the minute creep of the cables. As the pistons drove the phallus up his arse and back, they were at the same time winching in the two lengths incredibly slowly. Right now it was nothing to worry about, the cable attached to the cockring was almost imperceptible at this point in fact, but he could feel the one around his throat closing up and the cold panic was setting in. He knew it wouldn't take long before he began to feel it, taking his hands out of his pockets and fidgeting nervously as he imagined it
The dildo was gaining a little speed as it continued ploughing into him, a little more forceful and a little less comfortable as it filled his arse again and again. He planted his hands against the shining copper wall, feeling the cold metal and trying to brace himself against the merciless fucking. Teeth gritted, eyes squinting, he first lowered his head and then frantically raised it and pressed it as hard as possible against the back wall. The audience cackled with delight. Both dragon and crowd knew lowering his head was only inviting the Sarcophagus to strangle him sooner. As it was, there was enough slack to keep him breathing hungrily, heart racing. For the first time he completely understood what was happening to him, both the lust and terror spiking inside of him as his guts were churned. He could feel the metal ring around his dick tugging as well, drawing greater whimpers of fear as he considered just what that was going to do to him. He couldn't believe he was here and now, he couldn't believe it was all really happening
As his cock throbbed and begged for attention, he felt the cable begin digging into his neck for the first time, hooked just beneath his adam's apple. The prospect of wanking was banished from his thoughts as he tried to inhale and realised he was barely taking anything in. Each breath was less and less, and in a flash of terror he tore at the cable, trying to pull it away from his throat. Hopeless, and utterly degrading as the audience burst out laughing at his sudden will to live, but he didn't care. Primal fear blended with indescribable pleasure as he struggled pathetically, machine still hammering him without a pause, still pulling on his cock and balls with increasing pain and drawing strangulated whines as his jaw hung open trying uselessly to suck oxygen
By now the dragon's vision was beginning to spark alongside the increasing pain in both his throat and chest. Removing the cable was impossible, and he took his raw fingertips away from it, clamping them on the thick glass as if he might have managed to crack it somehow. In his dim reflection he could see his tongue hanging out of his snout, looking more and more purple as he dribbled pathetically, trying to hang on to his life even at the same time that he was so turned on to know it was about to be taken away from him. Part of him would've enjoyed knowing he was dribbling on his raincoat, which was meant to protect him from water after all, though his head was now pulled hard against the wall and lowering it at all was impossible. His cock ached both from growing pleasure and increasing force from the metal ring now abusing his balls as it continued tugging at them. He couldn't see the audience loudly cheering and chanting for his termination. He could see his executioners from the corner of his eye despite the lights popping in his vision, fucking hungrily at the side of the stage. They kept to the darkness, away from his spotlight. They weren't performing for the audience the way he was, they were just showing their own appreciation for his part of the show, and part of him wished he could join them to fuck and suck and watch himself being finished off. For all he knew the crowd were fucking like animals as well, or maybe the show was too riveting to do that. The machine kept pushing into him, ploughing him as deeply as it would go and making him want to expel his bowels. No chance of shitting himself when he was so firmly plugged, much as the dragon might have enjoyed the addition to his degradation, but he felt the discomfort as his bladder forcibly discharged itself, piss forcing itself through his erect prick to spray the glass to the audience's delight. The dragon simply choked and spluttered and even laughed a little as he watched and felt it, imagining it spattering on his oh-so-cute polka dot wellingtons
Everything was piling up on top of him, pushing him towards his final climax. He was exposed, dizzy, degraded and in pain in his throat, chest, cock, balls and arse, a piece of meat for the crowd's delight. Were it not for the machine penetrating him and the cable around his neck he would've collapsed long ago. He wanted to live. He wanted to die. But most of all he wanted to CUM. And finally, with another increase in force to his bruised nuts, he felt himself get what he wanted. His cock twitched and spasmed and sprayed thick jets of cum onto the glass, splashing back again onto his wellingtons, making him laugh and gasp in giddy, unfocused ecstasy. The crowd roared
The dragon's triumph was short-lived. The machine certainly didn't stop winching on his behalf, and down below, through the growing fog and darkness, he shrieked as he felt the tearing. Scales were tough but not invulnerable after all. Horror and pain overcame him in those final moments as he felt his sex wrenching away from his body, felt his whole body shaking in shock as he felt the dull, grotesque slap of his genitals flopping pathetically on his left boot, spreading red gore across the toe. The crowd went wilder still as the dragon in turn coughed and spluttered, forcing what vomit he could through his constricted throat to splash down over himself and onto those boots again. Final indignity, final demonstration of how his outfit was meant to keep him clean and dry after all, final thoughts before his vision turned to a void
The leatherboy swans finished their own work, one filling the other with his spunk as the other came in his feathered hand, and then they parted and calmly made their way over to switch the machine off. Of course they could leave it cranking until it severed the dragon's head completely, but there was no point in torturing a corpse. Quickly and efficiently they removed the body from the Sarcophagus, stuffing his severed cock and balls into his mouth more for convenience than degradation. The audience cheered regardless. The dragon's remains were taken to be disposed of in the incinerator whilst the cleanup crew mopped up the insides of the machine. Next performance in one hour
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Limbra was later murdered during a visit to Lansborough Mayoral Offices, when he was struck on the bridge of the knows by a wellington boot thrown with vehemence from an adjacent room. His assassin was never captured, but is assumed to have been either a former member of the Pantheon Bar's staff or an irate literary critic
--- from Miriam Sax's The Enigma Of Desire: A history of extreme underground practices in the name of pleasure (2005)